


heart outside, heart inside

by orphan_account



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-29
Updated: 2010-09-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 07:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/122513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeremy Abbott wakes up in girl!Jeremy's body in a parallel universe. Things start making sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The day after his disappointing free skate at the Olympics, Jeremy wakes up in a bed that is not his own. He knows this because Ben allowed him to put up his Lilly Allen poster and that lovely Harry-Potter Quidditch shirt he owns, and he didn't even need to argue his case. In comparison, this room is bare - if you ignore the hockey jerseys and the figure skating outfits lying around and - he turns with a groan just to find himself staring down at a blond mop of curls.

That's the moment he starts to freak out.

He has no time to jump off the bed and run for the hills, because Charlie wakes up. This is a good thing, as Jeremy is stark naked under the covers, and holy crap, he has breasts. Not big ones, just barely-there ones, still, he has breasts, and Charlie's rubbing his eyes, not reacting at all to this fact. Jeremy yanks the sheets up around his chest. He misses his penis. He can feel that it's not there.

"It's a bit late to find your modesty now," Charlie says with a hint of desperation in his voice. He does not look at all happy about this turn of events, any more than Jeremy feels.

"I have breasts," Jeremy says in a whisper, glancing down to peek beneath the sheets once more. Charlie's eyes drop down to where Jerem's uncovered himself, and something on his face changes. It makes Jeremy press his arms really closely to his chest, suddenly protective. "Stop looking at me like that," he hisses.

Charlie's eyes snap up to Jeremy's face and he has the grace to blush. "Sorry."

"What - how - where are my clothes?" Jeremy demands. He doesn't remember taking them off. He doesn't remember Charlie taking them off, and if the way they're naked, together, in bed, is any indication, something happened last night that made Jeremy do this. And turned him into a girl.

Then someone clears his throat. Jeremy jumps, and Charlie winces, and Evan says, "Oooooh. Awkward."

"This is not happening to me, this is not happening to me, this is not happening to me," Jeremy whispers to himself, eyes squeezed shut.

"Haha. Tanith's gonna gut you both," Evan says with evil glee in his voice.

 

~*~

 

Ben's in their room when Jeremy gets back. By then, Jeremy has got his clothes back on. They look like a dinosaur got a hold of them and chewed them through a few times, and he has no idea whose idea of a joke this is, but if he ever has to wear heels again, he's going to kill someone. He also hates tights. He always thought men's tights were uncomfortable, but he's never had the privilege to wear girls' tights before. Underneath a skirt. He wishes he'd had the good sense to just leave the tights with Charlie. He's never going to live this down.

"Uh oh," Ben says when Jeremy drops onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. "What happened?"

"Kill me," Jeremy begs him. "Please, kill me now."

"Cute outfit," Ben says.

"Thanks," Jeremy moans. "I hate you so much."

"Yuka is going to skin you alive, you know that, right?"

"What?" Jeremy looks up. "Why?"

Ben blinks. "It's noon. You missed practice. I also think Lysack tried to seduce you with his gold medal last night."

Jeremy snorts loudly. Then he remembers his girl body. Then he remembers what he saw when he glanced into the mirror earlier, just a quick check, and realizes that he's about as ugly as a girl as he was as in a boy's body, and the snort becomes less derisive and more pathetic.

Not a lot has changed. His face isn't much different - his jaw a little bit, his lines are a little finer, he has a longer, slimmer neck - but his shoulders are thinner, his chest is _there_ , and his penis isn't. Funnily, he still has no hips to speak of.

Then he realizes what all this means. He sits up abruptly. "Wait," he says. "Wait. Practice."

Ben nods, suffering quietly.

"Oh god." Jeremy barely keeps himself from blurting it out loud. This cannot be true. What sort of fucked-up, chaotic, utterly nonsensical - he has to do all of it _again_?

"So, now that you have realized the full repercussions of your actions, we could go eat lunch-fast. I'm hungry, and I need my sustenance before the compulsory tonight." Ben gets up from his bed.

"Who'd you fuck, anyway?" he then adds, like it's not that big a deal.

Jeremy wants to kill him. "I dunno," he mumbles, burying his face in his hands.

"You don't _know_?" Ben asks, stopping whatever it is he was doing - trying to find his wallet. His eyebrows are trying to climb into his hairline.

"No, I mean. I woke up with Charlie, but -"

"Charlie?" Ben asks, looking shocked. Jeremy has never seen Ben look anything but mysteriously laidback. "Charlie White?"

"We didn't. I don't think. I'm pretty sure. I mean. It doesn't _feel_ like we did - would it feel different if we had?" Jeremy swallows. He'd definitely felt different after he'd had sex that first time. For days, actually, he'd felt different. But that is also different than having sex with a vagina, he's pretty sure.

Ben's staring at him, mouth open.

"Forget I said anything," Jeremy says. He turns his back to Ben and crawls underneath the covers, burying himself. "I'm skipping breakfast, too," he says through the material. "Tell Yuka I'm sick?"

For a moment, he thinks Ben might ignore him and try _something_ , maybe get him to go after all, or _ask_ , which would be the most horrible thing Jeremy could ever think of, he does not want to talk about it, at all - but then he hears Ben's footsteps turn towards the door and the click of it as he leaves the room. There's a long silence. Jeremy closes his eyes and sighs, stomach coiling with anxiety.

 

~*~

 

He wakes up to someone stroking his hair, which feels soothing and so nice that he purrs like a kitten. Then he realizes what he's doing and jerks up, away from the touch. It turns out to be Meryl, sitting on his bed, looking down at him with sympathy in her gaze.

Jeremy does not want sympathy, or pity, or any of those useless emotions. His eyes fall on the alarm clock by his bed and he winces. He slept three hours.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for your big competition?" he asks. His voice sounds hoarse. It hasn't changed, though. It doesn't sound girlier, or any less girly. It sounds the same as ever.

"I'm ready," Meryl shrugs. "Charlie's the one freaking out." The corners of her mouth curl up. "Ben's really protective of you. It's cute."

"Ben's - what? Wait, what - I - and Charlie's freaking out? What happened?" Jeremy sits up. He's lost the tights, and the skirt, and is just sitting there in his shirt and his underwear, covers kicked off, and Meryl can clearly see that he's lacking a vital part of equipment, and she's not saying anything. At least now, he thinks to himself with a touch of humor, she can't tell him to stop being a girl anymore.

"Don't worry about it," Meryl says. "Do you feel okay? You're not hurt, are you?"

"What? No, I'm fine." Jeremy shakes his head, trying to clear it from the haze of sleep. "What kind of question is that, I didn't even go to practice - oh." He feels his neck grow hot. "This is because of that thing where I maybe slept with Charlie?"

Meryl gives him a scathing look. "This is because I care about you."

"Oh." Jeremy feels like a tool. "Right. Thanks. But no, I'm fine. We didn't even - you know. Nothing hurts." It really hurts to be in a girl body when he's a boy, but hey. It could have been worse. He could have woken up without arms or legs or without a body. Wouldn't that be a fun experience, floating around without a body. "Is Tanith all right?" he then asks, wincing.

"What?" Meryl blinks. "Tanith? Why would - oh. Right. Uh, yes, she probably wouldn't care either way. Seeing as they broke up around Nationals." She smiles sadly. "It really wasn't a good idea, they're much better off as friends." Then her smile turns into a cheeky grin. "Actually, you're _much_ more his type, and you never told me you thought he was hot!"

"I don't," Jeremy says, and drops his shoulders. "All right, who doesn't think he's hot, but it's not like I thought it would ever work or anything, after all, he's not." He trails off.

Meryl looks at him.

"Not into ugly girls," Jeremy finishes lamely.

Meryl gives him a look like she doesn't recognize him. "Stop fishing," she then says, squinting. "Charlie is into you, or you wouldn't have hooked up last night. I still should kill you for that, by the way. If he's in any way distracted this evening, there will be murder." Meryl squeezes his hand for a moment before she gets up. "You should talk to him, he's really worried that your friendship's ruined. Before we have to get on the ice, preferably?"

"Okay," Jeremy says. "I'll have a shower, and then I'll go face the music."

"And Jeremy?" Meryl says, when she's by the door.

"Yeah?"

"Tonight, it'll be just us girls. Emily and I have some space, and video games, and you can come help us relax. We can play scrabble."

Jeremy grins. "Just like in Juniors."

"Recapture the spirit," Meryl teases. Then she sobers. "Also, I think Yuka's been trying to call you. You should answer your cell before you get in the shower."

"Oh, shit," Jeremy says.

 

~*~

 

Yuka kicks his ass, his parents call him to tell him to take it easy, Meryl and Charlie do really well and are in medal contention after their compulsory dance, and Jeremy tries hard to avoid Charlie, despite his promise to Meryl to talk to him.

Instead, he googles himself, and then hangs out with Rachael in order to get as much information about himself as he can. Pretty much everything is the same. His life's story is the same, except for a few notable differences where he did not actually date any of the gay boys he did before - all right, he dated two, and then dumped them for being gay, so he's still a loser - and he's skating in ladies' competitions, and the US has three spots, and he won Nationals over Rachael, which is sort of funny, considering.

He does spend the evening with Emily and Meryl, and it's sort of fun. They drink orange juice and order sushi - Meryl knows him too well - and they do play scrabble while discussing the last few seasons of Friends before neatly segueing into a heated discussion about LOST mythology. He finds out Meryl's a little gay, which is either new, or something she didn't tell him when he was a boy. He finds out Emily has a secret more-than-crush on someone she had a short relationship with when she skated in Germany, and that she is about as much of a romantic sap as Jeremy is, except she prefers Jane Austen to his Audrey Hepburn.

They give each other massages. It should be awkward, but it's really not. They goof off. Everything smells of oils and parfumes. Afterwards, they all look like they went through multiple rounds of fantastic sex, and they feel about as exhausted and content.

When he gets back to his room, Ben's talking on the phone with his girlfriend. He hangs up seconds after spotting the blissed out expression on Jeremy's face.

"Don't you dare going overprotective brother on me," Jeremy warns before he can say anything.

"I wasn't going to," Ben says, holding up his hands. "Just curious. You know me."

Jeremy dumps himself onto his bed and sighs happily. "Meryl, Emily and I are going to open a massage saloon and spend the rest of our lives together, living in a platonic three-way lifepartnership of bliss and sparkles."

"Set your alarm," Ben tells him. "You have practice tomorrow."

"Don't harsh my squee, Agosto," Jeremy says, but does as told before he rolls out of his clothes and slips under his covers naked. He doesn't think about his body, just falls asleep.

 

~*~

 

No one should have been out and about at six am in the morning, and yet, Jeremy once again has to curse life, as the only other person in the kitchenette is Charlie. That's what you get for sharing an apartment suite with three guys, Jeremy tells himself. Awkward early-morning looks over toast.

"Coffee?" he asks, because he is not going to act like a spooked virgin, he isn't. He's neither spooked nor virginal, thank you very much. Just because he woke up in bed with Charlie White and his brain decided to take a vacation doesn't mean it's all over. Now, that vagina thing, if he ever figures it out, that might mean it's all over, but Charlie White will never defeat the spirit of Jeremy Abbott as long as Jeremy breathes.

"You're up early," Charlie comments, handing over the instant stuff and hot water.

Jeremy turns up his nose. "You're a shitty boyfriend, White," he says. "You could have made a Starbucks run, at least."

Charlie looks uncertain for a split second before he grins, relieved. "Sorry, milady," he teases. "I was unaware I was under orders."

Jeremy waves his spoon and steals Charlie's cream. It fills him with a trickle of satisfaction when he uses up all that's left and spots Charlie's coffee still black before him. If he knows one thing, it's how Charlie likes his coffee. There have been surname jokes that are so abused they've stopped screaming for mercy.

"Your compulsory was great," Jeremy tells him after a first sip. It's about as disgusting as he imagined, but if it'll help him get his feet underneath himself, it should do. "You're going to win a medal."

Charlie smiles. "Thanks. I saw you practice Wednesday. You looked rock-solid, so you probably will, too."

Jeremy nods. Then he gathers all his courage and blurts, as fast as he can, "Look, okay, I still - I don't remember what happened, exactly, but if - I mean. I never meant to upset you or put you in a position where you'd have to put up with me like that -"

"- whoa. Wait, hold on, what?"

"It's just, I must have been pretty drunk, since I don't remember anything, and I'm _never_ drunk, not like that, maybe a little tipsy sometimes, but I've never lost any time before, so it's a bit scary. And if I did anything that forced you to, you know." He flushes.

"No. No, I think you got it all wrong." Charlie's about as red-faced as Jeremy feels. "I remember what happened, and you certainly didn't - I mean. You were outgoing as usual, I guess? And we danced, and then you kissed me and I thought - I didn't realize you were drunk, not until you suddenly dropped off. Until that moment, you sounded coherent and like you knew what you wanted. You didn't even smell of alcohol at all." He slumps. "I totally feel like I took advantage now. I'm really sorry."

Jeremy considers this. Maybe his lack of memory isn't due to alcoholic excess, then. Maybe he just - switched places with this other person, who's him too, but a girl-him, like, in that moment, maybe that's why he doesn't know anything about before. He considers for a moment how wacked it is that he even thinks such a thing is possible, but then, he's here, in a girl body, talking about something he has no memory of, and if that isn't crazy, he doesn't know what is.

"Uh, no?" he tries. "Don't feel bad. If that's how I was, maybe I just hit my head?"

Charlie gives him a funny look. "You're being really weird."

"Gee, thanks."

"It's a compliment," Charlie grins, and he seems to be on more secure footing now that Jeremy's a bit snippish.

"Drink your coffee," Jeremy tells him, grinning back, and enjoys Charlie spluttering when he realizes what happened to his cream.

 

~*~

 

Practice is horrible. He falls twice just doing crossovers, and Yuka shouts at him because she thinks it's lack of focus, not lack of being used to a body that is not his. Thankfully, he has quite a bit of time to warm up before he has to do his first jumps, and he figures out the differences quickly. His first few jumps are splattered anyway. People are watching him like he's grown wings. He's not the most consistent skater out there, but that's in competition, not in practice.

"You look like you're scared," Yuka tells him when he gets off the ice at the end of his session. It's better, if not perfect yet. He needs more time. At least he doesn't need to worry about steps and spins. "You go into jumps like you're afraid of them. What's wrong? What changed?"

"I don't know," Jeremy says, and can't believe this is a _new_ thing. Apparently, he didn't google himself enough.

"Full run-throughs in the evening, with your competition attitude," Yuka tells him gently, taking his wrist. "You know you can do your programs, you've won every competition this season. Don't let the Olympics get to your head now, kid."

"I won't," Jeremy promises. He has no idea if he can do that, which makes him a liar.

 

~*~

 

Yuka's right. He's not a headcase here. He wasn't brave enough to look at videos of himself before, but now he knows he has to. He watches himself perform with a look of such determination and fire that it stuns him. He's never seen himself look like that before. He watches interviews in which he makes people laugh, while turning his head in a way that makes him look like he's beautiful, and knows it.

It makes him flush, just seeing that, embarrassed and insecure and he doesn't get it. There's nothing that changed, is there, he hasn't found any significant changes in his life that would explain how he can be like _that_ \- god, he's working his eyelashes like they're accessories, like they're high heels, clacking on marble floor - and then he gets it.

It's stupid, and obvious, and he feels like a moron again, like he always does, because people aren't telling him to stop acting like a girl here. Not even teasingly, not even in that loving way his friends do sometimes.

 

He knows that it's not all rays of sunshine for girls. But he still spends the next hour lying in his bed, listing in his head all the things he's allowed to do now that he couldn't before, never mind wearing a skirt or those hideously uncomfortable tights.

When Ben comes into the room later that day to drop off his skating gear, Jeremy sits up and catches his gaze.

"What?" Ben finally says when they've stared each other down for a good thirty seconds.

"I want to go buy shoes," he says. "And make-up. I want to dress up later and pretend like I'm a runway model. Also, I love Audrey Hepburn, and romantic comedies in which people ride off into the sunset together, and I want a vampire to come sweep me off my feet so we can spend the rest of our eternal, sunless lives making each other miserable."

Ben makes a face. "I want a guitar and chicken nuggets. My dreams are simple. Let's go for dinner."

Jeremy grins. "Cheeseburgers?"

Ben sighs the sigh of the defeated. "Fine. McDonalds it is."

 

~*~

 

Instead of doing a runway show - he doesn't really want that, but it's nice that he _could_ , if he wanted to - he spends the evening exploring Charlie's mouth.

He doesn't mean to, they just end up sitting next to each other in the USA common room, and he's beating Charlie at Wii Cycling, and Charlie laughs, leaning in, and Jeremy feels like he can do anything today, like the world belongs to him, like he doesn't need to go around telling himself he can, because this is not his life, it's not his universe, it's just an accident, it's a dream, and that means he can have whatever he wants, no consequences, no regrets.

He wants Charlie. He wants Charlie to kiss him, to touch him, to fuck him, he really just wants, and Charlie's handsome and sweet and a little dorky, and sometimes he acts like he's unsure how much he's allowed push, but most of the time, he does push back when Jeremy nudges him, and it's exciting and new, and he has never, ever kissed anyone in front of other people before.

He just goes for it, and Charlie's easy and pliant and melts into Jeremy, and for once, Jeremy dictates the kiss; no one whistles or tells them to get a room, and no one acts disgusted or put off like he's seen it happen to other boys (rarely, because everyone learns this really fast).

"My room," he tells Charlie when they stop to catch their breaths. "Ben'll know not to come in -"

"Yeah, no," Charlie says, taking his elbow, gently but firmly. "We're ODing tomorrow, remember? I'm not going to make Ben sleep in my room just because you want to have sex."

Jeremy narrows his eyes. "I don't remember mentioning anything about a sleepover."

He knows that was the wrong thing to say the moment it's out of his mouth, but he can't take the words back, and Charlie flinches like he's been hit.

"I didn't mean that," he tries, but Charlie's getting up already, wiping his mouth. "I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean it like that."

Charlie puts up his hands, shrugs, and walks away. Now everyone else in the room _is_ staring, and it's not a nice feeling.

Jeremy turns off the Wii, the TV set, and leaves. He steps outside into the fresh air for a moment to clear his head. He sits down on a little spot of grass amongst the concrete, not caring about stains on his jeans, and tells himself not to be stupid. He can have anyone, after all. He just needs to jut out his chin and flutter his eyelashes and make sure people believe it when he sells himself, and he can have everyone.

He watches people walk past, into the building and out of it, and really, he doesn't want anyone.

 

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

The day after a second no less disappointing free skate, Jeremy wakes up in his own bed. His Lilly Allen poster is stapled to the wall above his head, and his Harry Potter shirt is pinned to the headboard of his bed. On the other side of his room, Ben's snoring is just quiet enough to not be annoying. The air smells of oranges and axe sea breeze deodorant.

His pyjamas scrape over his nipples, and when he rubs over them, there are no breasts, small or otherwise. Just his hard chest, rib bones under his fingers familiar and strange, even though it was only a few days.

He dips his hand below the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and cups his groin and a feeling of relief washes over him, mixed with an impossibly deep sense of loss.

He doesn't want to cry, but it happens anyway, and it's worse than after the short program; at least that was because his heart was squeezing so tight it hurt. His body doesn't listen to him. Tears slide down his cheeks and fall onto his hair and his nose turns runny immediately, and he quickly buries his face in his pillow to keep the sounds in - and maybe to suffocate himself.

He doesn't know what's _wrong_ , he just knows it takes one hell of a loser to screw up a second chance like he got it. He could blame it on the body, or on the fact that he's only ever done spirals for fun (or way back when he skated pairs), but he knows that's not why, he knows it's never been a lack of skill making him fail. It still feels like he's learned nothing at all from the glimpse he got into a life he could have had.

He doesn't realize the snoring has stopped until a heavy weight settles on the bed right next to him, dipping the mattress. Ben touches his shoulder and says, "Hey. Budge over."

Jeremy is so stunned he complies, only to then smack himself figuratively because when he does, Ben's suddenly under the covers with him, and Jeremy starts rubbing at his eyes to hide how much of a - a baby he is. "What -?" He swallows down the teary voice. "What're you doing?"

"You know what I love?" Ben says, ignoring him. He stuffs a tissue into Jeremy's hand, then pulls him up so that he can put his forehead against Ben's chest and doesn't have to look him in the eye. Jeremy blows his nose, shaking his head at the same time.

"Blanket forts."

Jeremy snorts a little, dabbing his eyes. "Who doesn't love blanket forts."

"Iglu-shaped blanket forts!"

Jeremy sniffles a little bit more into Ben's chest and ignores the feeling in the back of his mind that tells him he should apologize. "You're so odd," he says instead.

"It's not so bad," Ben smiles, and oh, there he goes off again, and the tears start flowing. "No, come on - honestly, it's not the end of the world."

But then, Ben doesn't know that he _got another chance_ and blew it, by popping his combination, and then performing less than stellar in the free, _again_ , and, "it sort of _is_ the end of the world," he sniffles, "The end of one world, at least, and why do I always have to be such a - such a disappointment," he hiccups, "and everyone - everyone just thinks I'm gonna - and I do, right, 'm never good enough when it _counts_ , in anything, or, Charlie's mad, and Yuka's mad, and Alissa's mad, and everyone's _disappointed_ , and -"

Ben snorts. It's not funny, except it sort of is, and Ben's laughing at him. Jeremy hits his shoulder, making him 'oof', and says, "Shut up, I'm havin' a crisis."

"No, it's fine. Do go on with it," Ben says dryly.

When Jeremy glances up at him, gaze blurry, he's still looking amused. "You're making fun of me in your head," he accuses.

"Just a little," Ben says.

"I hate you."

"You love me, really." Ben pats Jeremy's head.

Jeremy laughs, because it's true. "Doesn't mean anything," he says, blowing his nose again,"'cause 'm pathetic, so you have to find someone else who'll love you better."

"Don't talk like that. You have the Agosto stamp of approval. I do not give those out to just anyone."

Just people with blotchy skin and red, puffy eyes from all the crying, who look horrible and swollen all over and like a complete mess. "I'm sorry," he says. "That you have to room with me and I woke you up in the middle of the night, you can go back now, and I'll be really quiet, I promise."

"It's fine," Ben says.

"But I woke you, and you need sleep -"

"People my age don't need all that much sleep anymore," Ben corrects him. "And don't worry about competition, I've been dancing angry tangoes in my sleep for weeks now, I don't think an unscheduled interruption is going to change anything."

"Oh my god, your competition, I'm such an idiot, I forgot, I am _so_ sorry -"

Ben clamps his hand over Jeremy's mouth. "You _need_ to relax. Stamp of approval, remember?"

Jeremy nods, shoulders slumping.

"I'd guitar you a happy song to cheer you up, but everyone else in our apartment complex will bloodily murder us if I do, so you'll have to manage without." He takes his hand off Jeremy's mouth.

"Thanks," Jeremy says, rubbing over it with the back of his hand before he shifts around so he can find a comfortable position to lie in. He ends up with his head back on his pillow, on eye-level with Ben. He looks away, embarrassed. "What kind of song?"

"'Bad Day' would be most appropriate," Ben says. "I've been trying the Gaga, on Weir's recommendation, but it's not as fitting, and I want to surprise him with that one when he next time comes into the team common room in that fancy nightwear of his. Though I feel Pokerface might be overdone."

"I like 'Boys Boys Boys'," Jeremy murmurs.

Ben laughs. "I know."

Jeremy hits his arm again. "Oh god, shut up." But he's laughing as well, and they spend at least half an hour talking about music and Johnny's carry-on wardrobe, and Tanith's adventures in roommate land, until they fall asleep.

 

~*~

 

The next day feels like being stuck in a timeloop. He sleeps till noon, wakes up to Meryl and her attempt at cheering him up. He's not in the mood, so he's cattier with her than he should be. He expects her to snap back, expects a scathing reply or a short warning not to be such a bitch.

Instead, her eyes soften and she grows sympathetic, like he needs support and niceness more than a good butt-kicking; he's never noticed the amount of indulgence before. It shouldn't come as a surprise, but it does.

She still strokes his hair, but she doesn't invite him to her and Emily's girl party in the evening. Jeremy has just time enough to remember he's not actually a girl and therefore doesn't enjoy that privilege anymore.

The hardest part is running into Charlie a few hours before the CD is about to start. He leaves his room freshly showered, no longer feeling like the wretched mess he saw when he looked in the mirror earlier, and it hits him like a punch to his stomach that he really, honestly wanted Charlie, and still does, and isn't going to have him now, ever.

Charlie's drinking coffee, white as usual, spooning the sugar into it in ways Meryl would disapprove - which is probably why he keeps looking over his shoulder guiltily - and Jeremy wants to go over and kiss him, and tell him that he wants sleepovers, daily, that he wants to wake up with him, every morning, whenever Charlie wants to.

Instead, Jeremy says, "Hi," in a timid, quiet way that is so himself he has to wince.

Charlie waves at him, because he's a dork, and says, "Coffee?"

"I guess," Jeremy says, and knows he was supposed to be the one to ask for it. "Thanks."

He doesn't steal Charlie's cream, because it wouldn't work, not here, not now. He doesn't tease Charlie about being his boyfriend, either, because Charlie's been a great sport about everything Jeremy, every since his coaching change, and Jeremy knows, he just knows it would make things really awkward and Charlie would look at him like he's weird and maybe a little disgusted and Jeremy cannot imagine anything worse.

He doesn't need to imagine flopping his Olympic debut anymore, after all. Twice.

They sit in silence until Charlie gets up, looking as uncomfortable as Jeremy feels, and says, "I'm gonna..." with a gesture towards his room, and the exit.

"Yeah," Jeremy says, staring into his cup. "Good luck. You'll be awesome, and have fun."

If the brief look of hurt on Charlie's face makes his insides clench with misery, he tells himself it's nothing he can change. He's pretty sure dealing with not getting a hug will be a lot easier for Charlie than dealing with a humongous gay crush.

 

~*~

 

He has no idea what prompts him to do what he does when he manages to get off his chair and get his butt moving. He surprises himself with finding the way to Johnny Weir's door.

There are many reasons why they hardly speak whenever they're forced to spend time together, the least of which is their past unfortunate falling for the same guy. They're different, is the thing, and for two years in a row now, that difference has won Jeremy a medal that Johnny still considers rightfully his.

But all of that is not the truth. Those are little puzzle pieces, fitting into the larger scheme, and the truth is, it's never been Johnny. If Johnny has been able to lay aside his differences with Evan so they can treat each other cordially, with all their baggage, the above things are no reasons at all.

 

Johnny opens the door with the third knock, wrapped in a lilac bathrobe, smelling of bath salts, his hair sticking to his scalp. He looks nicer without all the make-up. His eyes widen in surprise.

Before he can close it again, Jeremy blurts, "There are days when I want to be you," and then, because he cannot let that stand alone, "There are days when I hate the sight of you."

Johnny laughs, unamused, and turns on his heel, leaving the door open. When Jeremy steps through he's towelling off his hair, not looking at Jeremy while he says, "You guessed the password for the door. Congratulations." His voice is dripping with scorn.

Johnny's the only one Jeremy knows who doesn't treat him like he's fragile.

"Thanks for letting me in," Jeremy hears himself say.

Johnny folds the towel neatly and waltzes into his bedroom. A minute later, he calls, "Well?"

Jeremy clears his throat.

"You can come in, you know. My room's not going to turn you into a girl."

Jeremy wishes it would, but not really. He has no idea what he wants. He likes his body like it is. It's not his body that's his problem, it's his stupid mind, wanting things it can't have.

"Been there, done that," he quips at Johnny instead of saying this, as he steps into the doorway to his room, and it earns him a quick look of approval.

Johnny's jumping up and down to squeeze into a pair of jeans, wearing a sparkling pink t-shirt that's tight enough to be made for twelve-year old girls. Jeremy wouldn't put it past Johnny to shop in that part of a store. Jeremy also wouldn't put it past Johnny to wear this just to make people uncomfortable.

Jeremy's not uncomfortable. He's jealous. Sparkly pink's not his favorite color, but he wishes he was brave enough to wear it, anyway. He's only ever brave when he's alone.

"What do you want, then?" Johnny asks, buttoning up.

Jeremy can't help stealing a glance at his butt, and he knows Johnny caught it, which makes everything so much weirder.

"I have no idea," Jeremy says. When Johnny's eyes wander over his shoulder to the door, he forces himself to get his act together. He doesn't want to leave. He has no idea why he came, but he knows that if answers are anywhere, they'll be here, in a room decorated with posters from Madonna to Cher, pink bathmats and rose-scented candles.

"How do I not care?" he asks finally. "I want - not always. Not - not forever. But sometimes, I want to do things like skate in a corset, or - or pretend I'm a princess -"

"Good job on that, by the way. Hardly anyone caught on." Johnny rolls his eyes.

"If I was a girl -"

"You're not." Johnny's voice turns hard. "Get over yourself, Abbott, this is not a pity fest, and just because everyone else lets you get away with it doesn't mean I want to hear it. It's either or, you don't get to go back and forth. People suck that way, they judge you once and you're cast forever. I play soccer with my brother and his friends in the dirt just like a real boy, but no one cares because I love my onesies pretty and my eyelashes curled."

"But it bothers you." Jeremy has seen the look in Johnny's eyes when people call him flamboyant. It's never exactly a compliment, and everyone knows it, most of all Johnny.

"You and me, we've been judged ever since we figured out how to cross a playground with a swagger that made all the girls green with envy. You tell me if it can ever _not_ hurt."

"Why do it then?"

"Because playing it safe, like you do, is not who I am." Johnny's smile, for once, is not forced or sarcastic or scornful. It's almost gentle, and accepting. "I can't. Maybe if I had the choice I'd do things differently, but probably not. And in any case, I've dealt my own cards, and I have to play with them, and so do you."

Jeremy nods, and half-smiles back.

"Now sit down," Johnny tells him, and the diva's back as he makes an all-encompassing gesture with his arm. "I'm not going to throw you out when we can watch our favorite hags perform their souls out to one of the hottest dances in existence. You know what the fun part is, in ice dancing?"

"The twizzles?" Jeremy asks, and sits down next to Johnny, powerless to resist. Something between them has settled - not gone, not completely, but lessened - and it doesn't feel off anymore.

"No, silly. Making up stories that go with every performance," Johnny says.

It feels good when Johnny pats his knee and offers him peanuts, and laughs when Jeremy offers his opinion on a dance. It feels like they understand each other now, and it feels like he's back, breasts and vagina, and people are taking him seriously.

Jeremy finds a string in their conversation, like people expected him _there_ , like he figured out without even actively knowing how, and twists with Johnny's snips and teases, gives back as good as he gets, and when Johnny turns off the TV in the end, he's looking at Jeremy like he's changed.

"There's something different about you," he says.

Jeremy ducks his head, shrugging, and the considering look in Johnny's eyes vanishes.

"I should go," Jeremy says, after a deep breath. "I need to congratulate the roommates, and..." he trails off.

"Just don't tell them our stories," Johnny grins.

Jeremy finds himself grinning back. "Evan'll be delighted to know he's been cast in a remake of Beauty and the Beast." He waits a beat, then adds, "You could come with."

"Nah," Johnny says. "I'll stay here. Tanith will be back soon, too, she's not that keen on Charlie right now. And fourth place is just bad enough that I might end up getting laid." He waggles his eyebrows. "You never know."

First, Jeremy wants to laugh, because: no way. But then he realizes he doesn't have a clue, not a single inkling about anything in Johnny's life. He's not that quick about these things, what with only recently figuring out, _years_ late, that he's in love with Charlie.

"Good luck?" he tries, catching Johnny by surprise for a laugh.

He feels happier than he has been for a while when he gets back to the empty apartment suite. He feels like if he wants something changed, he needs to change it. That he can change it. He just has to figure out how.

 

~*~

 

He wakes up at six, on Saturday, and his stomach churns with anticipation as he gets out of bed and tries to make himself presentable without waking Ben up.

With only tiny differences, everything has happened exactly how it happened in the days he spent as a girl. He still doesn't know how it worked, or if it was even real; in a way, it must have been, because things are happening so similarily, he can't have thought them up.

He doesn't think it _matters_ , or that wondering will help at all. He just knows what Johnny said, and what he felt then, what he feels now.

He can't get the Olympics back. What he wants is to do better next time. There has to be a way, because he wasn't a choker, _there_ , so he doesn't _always_ screw up, just when he's like this, when he's the way he is now.

He also wants Charlie. He doesn't want to lose Charlie, though, maybe just as badly. He closes his eyes, imagines he's _her_ , that woman he grew up to be in the other universe; he doesn't have to imagine. He knows what she did - she wanted Charlie, and she got him, one for one.

Jeremy had to deal with the consequences when he woke up as her, sure, but that doesn't change the fact that the person Jeremy is in that other universe is utterly unafraid.

It's not about being a girl or a boy, it's not, he reminds himself, because Charlie could have just said no to the other Jeremy, and the outcome would have been the same. He doesn't quite believe it himself, but he will, he tells himself, he has to.

By now, his hair is protesting the brush, and if the timing's the same, Jeremy's already late, so he lets it clutter to the floor behind him and steps out of his room, pretending he's still her.

 

Charlie's indeed in the kitchenette, his back to Jeremy, making coffee.

"Any coffee left over for me?" he asks, surprising Charlie into a tiny yelp.

"Heavens, don't sneak up on me like that," Charlie says. He sounds annoyed.

That's different. Jeremy forces himself not to apologize. It's hard, because the sorry is already on the tip of his tongue, waiting to slip out, and he should, he knows it's the polite thing to do, and it's his fault - but instead, he juts out his chin the way he learned, and says, "Or what?" It comes out less teasing than he planned, and sounds stiff to his own ears.

Charlie narrows his eyes. Then he realizes who he's talking to, and blinks. He glances down at his coffee. "Sorry?" he offers. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Jeremy shifts his weigth from one foot to the other. "It's fine. Instant?" He nods at Charlie's cup. "No Starbucks run?"

Charlie looks at him like he's crazy. "It's six am. I can't cross the street this early without coffeine in my blood."

Everything's just going _spectacularly_ as planned. Jeremy laughs at himself for believing it would be that easy, and shakes his head. "Sorry," he says. "I'm just tired."

"Yeah." Charlie sits down on his seat, and Jeremy follows after brewing his own cup. Charlie watches him for the time it takes him to mix in his sugar and cream, and asks, "Are you feeling better?"

Jeremy nods.

Charlie takes a sip. He's not looking at Jeremy, staring at the swirling drink when he says, "I'm not mad at you, by the way. I don't know why you'd think that."

For a second, Jeremy doesn't know what he's talking about, but then he remembers. Right. Ben. "It wasn't... I wasn't thinking straight," he explains. "I was just sad." He flushes. "He didn't, um - he didn't say anything else, did he?"

Charlie shakes his head. "Just asked if something was up."

Jeremy puts on a brave smile. "No. Nothing's up."

"We're good?"

"Yeah. The best."

"Great. What're you up to today? Anything exciting planned for your last few days in Vancouver?"

"I was going to go shopping," Jeremy says. "I want -" He hesitates. Tells himself to stop being so afraid. "Johnny said they had neat winter boots at Gravitypope." And handbags. Jeremy doesn't have the money for handbags right now, but he can afford some boots. And he can still look. "And I wanna read The Lost Symbol, I haven't had the time to buy it yet."

Charlie smiles. "Sounds awesome. I'll be hanging out by the cafeteria after practice, and then probably get some guys to play Wii or something, so come join us when you get bored?"

Jeremy feels himself grow warm all over with pleasure. "All right," he agrees. And beams. "I'm gonna kick your ass at cycling."

Charlie throws his head back and laughs, bright and beautiful, and says, "We'll see about that!"

 

~*~

 

Later that day, walking down 4th Ave, boots bought and ready to get shipped home, he decides to call Alissa. He misses her, for one, and they didn't part on the best of terms.

He tells her this when she picks up. She's not mad anymore, after all.

"Practice has been going well," she says. "And I've got a few offers. We'll see what I'll do."

"I'm sorry we had that fight," Jeremy says. "I just don't want you to leave. I just got settled, I've started calling my place home, and then you told me you were looking for another coach."

"I know. I'm sorry I surprised you. I just think I need someone different. Can you understand that? Everyone thinks I'm old already and should just stop skating, but it's like Brian said, I don't want to end skating on a bad note. And I think I need a change, anyway." She sounds a little sad, but mostly like she's looking forward to it.

Jeremy remembers the way he felt when he decided to leave Broadmore SC. He thought it would change him, and it has. Just not enough, not for when it counts. He needs to change that part all by himself. He wants to tell Alissa that, but he doesn't know how.

"I don't want you to change," he tells her instead, because it's the truth. He loves her the way she is.

Alissa's silent for a moment. Then she says, "I don't know if it's me changing that I want, either. But I think I want a persona. Someone I can be on the ice, someone who's flirty and plays with the crowd. Quiet, shy people don't win the Olympics."

Jeremy thinks for a moment that he could be that. He could be flirty and sexy, and play with the crowd, if he was a girl. The Johnny voice in his head tells him to get over himself, because he's being a hypocrite. And it's not that he's got bad programs. It's that when he gets so nervous, going on the ice, he sometimes forgets who he's supposed to play.

He guesses they have the same problem there.

"You're one of the smartest, most beautiful, and wonderful people I've ever met," Jeremy tells her.

Alissa laughs in his ear. "So are you," she says. "So why aren't we believing it?"

 

~*~

 

He beats Charlie at Wii Cycling. That's because Charlie sucks at it so badly, it's almost funny again; Jeremy doesn't tell him that. Maybe if he keeps him believing he's good, they'll play more often, and he can show off. He's going to show off. He's told himself to be forward, and believe that he's everything they talked about, and for now, he has to keep reminding himself that he is, but that's okay.

Changing overnight doesn't work anyway, as multiple people have pointed out to him today. He's getting used to being called strange. There are worse things.

"This is impossible," Charlie says, and drops the remote when Jeremy once again wins the race around the island, and cheers as Charlie comes in fourth. "You've rigged the game, admit it."

Jeremy shakes his head, laughing. "I didn't. I won fair and square."

"I resent this. Give me a re-match. My Mii looks too sad, I cannot let him - her? How come I ended up with - Lindsay? Wow, look at her scores. Lindsay Vonn sucks at Wii Cycling, who'd have thought."

Jeremy grins. "I think she might have higher scores at the skiing part of the sport program."

Charlie nudges him with his shoulder. "Shut up, she's awesome."

There's a spike of jealousy in his stomach that makes Jeremy glance over, because he remembers how this ended, before, or not how it ended, how it started, the kissing, Charlie's hands on his waist. "You like her?" he asks before he can talk himself out of it.

Charlie runs his hand through his hair, ducking his head. "She's cute, I guess?"

Their voices have fallen low, low enough so that the few other people sitting around in armchairs, talking, playing cards or reading, can't hear them over the music coming from the TV. Jeremy swallows.

"Why?" he asks.

Charlie's eyebrows go up. "Why what?"

"Why - her? And Tanith? What is it about them?" He can see he's making Charlie uncomfortable now, asking all these questions. He doesn't take them back. He just wants to know.

"They're nice," Charlie says. "And I like how they look? And - Tanith, I guess, I mean, I don't know Lindsay too well, I only met her like, twice, but - they make me laugh. Know what they want, and they're fun to be with? I guess?"

Jeremy nods and turns back to the TV, staring at the screen. His heart is beating so hard he can barely hear himself over it, and his stomach churns like it does before competitions whenever he's scared out of his mind. He can't do it.

He does it. "What about me?" he asks, slowly enough that his voice doesn't break. "Am I fun to be with?"

Charlie catches his gaze with a half-smile. "Yeah. Sure, you're - oh." His face turns red, and the smile vanishes. "Oh. I. Oh, fuck."

Jeremy rubs his hands over his eyes and sighs. "Great. Just great." He hops up onto his feet, feeling stupid and disappointed, and it's like fucking up his short program over and over again. It feels like his whole life is going to be a repeat performance of that night.

"Jeremy. I don't mind, honestly, I don't," Charlie says. "Don't go."

"It's fine," Jeremy says, shrugging, putting his arms around himself. "I just wanted to know."

He finds the spot he sat on before, outside, and it's just as cold as before, and people walk past, like before, into the building and out of it, and he feels like he gave it all and it still wasn't enough.

Story of his life, really. People look at him strangely when he laughs to himself.

 

~*~


End file.
